


The Cat Who Got Stuck in A Tree

by writtensword



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, I will burn in hell forever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5856745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtensword/pseuds/writtensword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cat gets stuck in a Tree. Yes. Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cat Who Got Stuck in A Tree

Cat slid into the back of the waiting town car and closed her eyes in relief when the door was shut behind her. She leaned back in her seat and massaged the bridge of her nose, sighing deeply in an attempt to shake off her unpleasant evening.

 

Dinner with CatCo shareholders was one of her least favourite activities, and tonight had turned out to be especially tiresome. Unfortunately, she had been seated next to the most conservative shareholder at the table, and he had spent the larger part of dinner spouting one misogynistic monologue after another in a pathetic attempt to steer the political direction of CatCo Worldwide Media into one more favourable of his own agenda.

 

At first Cat had patiently flashed him her most brilliant fake smile, hoping that she could charm him into shutting his annoying, hateful mouth. But during the main course he had begun to belittle Supergirl, implying that the city’s beloved hero was better suited to be on the cover of the “gentleman's periodical” he kept so fervently advising Cat to launch. According to him, men were not interested in reading about how strong Supergirl was or how many people she saved, and that if Cat wanted to expand, and thus make more profit, she would need to start catering to her male audience.

 

But Cat Grant had not gotten to where she was by following the advice of sexist, old men, and the fact that he had dared to insult her girl, _her creation,_ to her face, showed her just how little respect he had for her or CatCo.

 

Following her own advice to never become openly angry at work, she had stopped herself from telling him to take his money and shove it up Fox News’ ass. Instead, she had neatly folded the napkin in her lap and waved at the waiter for a second martini, mentally already composing the cleverly worded letter to her board of directors recommending an immediate release of the man from his responsibilities to CatCo.

 

A few months ago, when Tribune sales had been at an all-time low, she might have perhaps put up with him, but times had changed. Cat’s continued coverage of Supergirl had assured rising numbers, and she had plans to continue pushing this upward trend. She did not need his cheques and ignorant opinions, nor his persistent, wandering gaze down the front of her blouse.

 

Cat had barely touched her food, too put off by the horrible company, and when the main course had been cleared off the table and she had finished her third martini she had decided it best to leave before she ended up verbally eviscerating the man.

 

Now, in the safety of the car, she allowed her shoulders to sag just a little. Running a corporate empire was not easy, and despite the glamour of being the “Queen of all Media”, Cat occasionally longed back to the time she had been a lowly writer at the Daily Planet, chasing stories and not having to worry about company finances or dinner with obnoxious shareholders. She did not have the time to write much anymore these days, relying on her more or less capable writing staff to wield the words while she wielded the power. But she remained a journalist at heart, making exceptions to indulge, most recently in her critically acclaimed article on Supergirl. Her fingers still tingled whenever she smelled a good story, and somehow she knew that she was not done telling the story of Supergirl.

 

She thought of Kara, her assistant, whose striking physical similarity to Supergirl had led Cat to believe that they were one and the same. She had been so convinced, so sure of herself and her thorough research into that long list of suspicious coincidences, that seeing Kara and Supergirl in the same room together had come as quite the shock. And yet, although she had even openly admitted that she had been wrong, the journalist inside her, that unquenchable thirst she felt to uncover the truth, still made her fingers itch.

 

As the car carried her through the night traffic of National City, Cat wondered if her evening might have gone better had her assistant accompanied her to dinner as planned. Not only would the young woman have acted as a welcome buffer, Cat would have also liked to see Kara’s reaction to some of the things that had been said at the table. Kara tended to be quite passionate about the topic of Supergirl, and the thought of watching the younger woman’s attempts at keeping calm in light of this evening’s conversation brought a tiny smirk to Cat’s lips.

 

Yes, _her own amusement_ , that was the reason why she had felt her assistant’s absence so profoundly tonight. It was not as if she had somehow grown attached to the younger woman and had found herself wishing for her friendly face at a table of pushy shareholders. Nope, not at all.

 

Cat felt the beginnings of a familiar ache, low in her belly, and she rolled her eyes and told herself that it was not loneliness, but hunger. _For food._ After all, she had eaten nothing but a spoon of saffron-carrot mousse wrapped in a lettuce leaf... and three olives.

 

They drove past a snug little Italian place that practically oozed family-friendly downtown charme and Cat had to fight the urge to have the car stop for pizza. But she persevered, fingers curling into the cushion of her car seat and her mind firmly set on the low-fat vegetable casserole she knew her housekeeper had left in the freezer for emergencies. She released a steadying breath and felt a bit proud that she was still so in control despite being slightly tipsy. Yes, Cat Grant, the queen of restraint, so calm and collected...

 

“Stop the car!”

 

It was out of her mouth before she had time to think, because there, in front of the little Italian place stood Kara Danvers with her arms wrapped around another woman. The very same Kara Danvers who had so vehemently begged for this night off to attend to “important family matters”.

 

Cat glared at the two women through the tinted car window, and her jaw hardened when Kara threw her head back in laughter and grabbed the other woman’s hand to pull her into the restaurant. That did not look like important family matters _at all._

 

As the car stopped there were several emotions swirling around in Cat’s not-so-sober head--confusion, anger, disappointment-- but in the end it was curiosity that made her tell the driver to wait, before she grabbed her phone, opened the car door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. From outside the window she let her eyes skim over the restaurant crowd until she found Kara and her companion just as they pushed through the ‘staff only’ door in the back, a decidedly conspiratory air about them.

 

Did Kara have a second job in the kitchen of a pizzeria that Cat did not know about? Was that why she so often disappeared during the work day, sometimes returning smelling distinctly of something burnt? Did Cat not pay the young woman enough? Or was she Supergirl after all and the back of an unremarkable Italian restaurant held the entrance to her secret lair? Which, if Kara was indeed Supergirl, would definitely not come as a surprise.

 

Cat felt the telltale tingle in her fingertips and bit her bottom lip as she considered her options. Of course she could march right into the restaurant and demand to see her assistant. She did have that kind of power in this city, _her_ city. However, she would then have to explain to Kara why she had stopped on her way home in a part of town she did not frequent, just to speak to her. And not that Cat ever owed Kara an explanation, but she did not want to give her assistant the impression that she was that important, as it would only end in sickeningly sweet puppy smiles and Cat _definitely_ hated those.

 

No, she would have to investigate the truth in more subtle ways. Lured by her journalistic hunch, and not without a slight spring in her step at the prospect of doing some proper sneaking around again for the first time in decades, she turned and glanced into the narrow alley beside the restaurant. Her days of creeping into Metropolis’ darkened corners on the hunt for a scoop might be long over, but Cat Grant loved a challenge, especially with the fire of several martinis in her blood spurring her on.

 

Making sure she was not being watched, Cat slipped into the shadows and carefully stepped past trash cans and stacked wooden pallets until she arrived at a small courtyard where two back alleys intersected at the base of a gnarly old tree. The buildings surrounding her were a few stories high, and as she looked up she was greeted by a view of steaming air vents and the dark silhouettes of crowded clothing lines swaying in the night wind that reminded her of Metropolis. She scrunched her nose in displeasure. It even smelled like Metropolis.

 

The back of the pizzeria was lit by a single lamp on the wall above the backdoor. A dumpster stood to the side, and Cat’s trained eyes searched the windows above it for a gap to peek through. However, the first row of windows was fully taped shut, and the second row seemed too high for her to reach, unless, perhaps, she were to stand on the dumpster.

 

Cat was contemplating the absurdity of climbing into trash when she heard Kara’s familiar laughter float down from somewhere above. A small window on the far left was tilted open, and as luck would have it, Kara appeared to be standing right below it on the other side. Cat tiptoed closer and turned her head, hoping to catch whatever was being said. But she could not make out any full words, the wind carrying their voices up and away. She eyed the dumpster again, judging whether or not she could manage to pull it this way without making any noise.

 

Who was she kidding? That thing looked like it weighed several hundred pounds. Even if she managed to get it to move it would definitely not come quietly. With a frustrated sigh Cat spun around in search of an easily accessible fire escape, but she found none. That was when her eyes fell back to the tree. One of its larger branches reached into the direction of the window she was so interested in, and yet it was at a safe enough distance that Cat could imagine herself reclining on it without getting detected.

 

She tapped a finger against pursed lips, her rational mind protesting at the ridiculousness of her plan. The intelligent thing would be to abort this mission, return to the car and go home. She would have plenty of time to interrogate Kara in the morning. And although her son was with his father, and the prospect of an empty house was not exactly enticing, risking her life by climbing a battered old tree in an abandoned back alley just to spy on an assistant she really should not care this much about was definitely not the way for a woman of her status to pass her time.

 

The sweet sound of Kara’s giggle rained down on her then, and Cat felt something lurch in her belly. Someone who had let her suffer through a horrible evening all by herself was not allowed to have this much fun. Indignation kicked Cat’s legs into action and she walked to the tree to carefully slide her hands over its trunk. It barely had any leaves, and years of being surrounded by concrete might have weakened its roots. But the wood felt solid enough, and Cat squinted into the darkness, looking for a way up.

 

Hands firmly grasping a low-hanging branch, she kicked off her shoes, and with the strength from years of yoga she pulled herself a foot or so into the tree. She paused for a moment, readjusting her grip before moving onward, and the higher she climbed, the more confident she became. When Cat finally reached the branch in question her head was pounding, but there was a firm smirk planted on her lips. Oh, she still had it!

 

She focused on the opened window below and inched forward, mindful of not ripping her slacks or her blouse. Confident that the branch would carry her weight, she stretched out across its length and rested her chin in one hand while holding onto the tree with the other, eyes drinking in the scene below her.

 

The angle was perfect. She could see right through the gap. Kara and the mystery woman were seated side-by-side in a little corner booth, their shoulders touching as they talked over a basket of breadsticks. They looked nothing alike, but Cat vaguely remembered that her assistant did have a foster sister. Who else would the dorky young woman take to the back room of a pizzeria for some kitchen scraps? Certainly not a _date_.

 

Cat ignored the low, displeased rumble in the pit of her stomach and instead tried to concentrate on what the two women were saying.

 

“You were really rough tonight!” Kara said with a pout before she bit into a breadstick. “I just know I won’t be able to walk again tomorrow.”

 

The other woman laughed heartily at that, but Kara turned to her, exasperated. “That’s not funny! You did not see Cat’s face last time! I was forced to lie to her and say that I had taken a kickboxing class.”

 

The other woman laughed even harder at that, and Cat wanted to lunge through the window and throttle her. But then she realised that Kara had just referred to her by her first name, and before she could stop it a tiny smile tugged at her lips.

 

“Aw, poor you,” the other woman cooed, and Cat’s nails dug into the tree when she watched her gently press her cheek to Kara’s and pet her head. “I did promise to make it up to you.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Kara replied while chewing and waving a piece of bread in front of her, “you’re gonna need a whole lot more breadsticks for that.”

 

At that moment an extra large pizza was placed on the table in front of them, and Cat rolled her eyes when she saw Kara delightedly clap her hands. She knew that her assistant was really just an ordinary girl who loved ordinary, boring things like pizza and Friday movie nights. But as she watched Kara bump pizza slices with the woman beside her before taking a big bite that made her eyes close in pleasure, she felt that there was really nothing ordinary about Kara at all.

 

Because Cat Grant was not drawn to the ordinary.

 

She pulled her gaze away from her happily chewing assistant to briefly rest her forehead on the back of her head. The whole point of this little adventure had been to find out what Kara was hiding. Nothing Cat had witnessed tonight was any indication that Kara Danvers was an alien superhero. And yet, here she was, away from the crowd in the back of a restaurant with a beautiful woman who, judging by the intimacy they shared, might very well be her girlfriend.

 

Cat pretended not to feel the renewed surge of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Her hand clenched into a fist and she rested her chin back on top as she once more squinted at the scene below her. There had to be something. Cat refused to believe that all the secrecy and the lies about family emergencies were just a cover for a date.

 

Determined to pay attention to everything besides Kara’s exaggerated humming at every other bite, Cat, watched as one pizza was devoured and another was brought in its stead. There was occasional teasing banter between the two women as they ate, but nothing interesting that Cat could work with. Once a third pizza was brought out, Cat had learned nothing new, except, perhaps, that her assistant appeared to have a TARDIS for a stomach.

 

At this point Cat was convinced that the unease she felt in her own belly was nothing other than hunger, and she began to feel increasingly miserable as the night grew colder. She had to face the fact that her journalistic hunch had brought her to a dead end, and the sooner she got herself off this tree and back into her car, the faster she would be able to raid her fridge at home and soothe her ego with a little Bourbon.

 

With one last lingering glance at her assistant Cat pushed herself up. She balanced on her hands and knees and looked over her shoulder in search for another branch to grab so she could safely climb back down. But as she squinted into the darkness she could not see a direct escape route, and suddenly she felt uncomfortably high above the ground.

 

A cold gust of wind had her tremble in her thin blouse, and the slight movement threw her off balance and scared her enough to make her lie back down and clamp herself to the branch. This was ridiculous! She had gotten herself up here, so she should also be damn well capable of getting herself down. The chiding voice inside Cat’s head sounded annoyingly similar to her mother’s.

 

She took a deep breath and pushed up again, but now the ground below her started spinning, and the ensuing panic immediately had her back to hugging her branch. What a time for her vertigo to kick in. It had not bothered her on the way up, so why now? Pressing her cheek to the tree Cat dared to open an eye to look down. It could not be more than eight feet, but right now even the prospect of dangling off the branch and letting herself drop those last two feet had her spine ripple with fear.

 

Carefully, she moved one hand to the pocket in her slacks and inched out her phone. Her first impulse was to call Kara, but that was clearly out of the question. Maybe she could phone James Olsen and have him send Supergirl? She was not sure, however, if she could fully trust him and his lingering connection to Daily Planet staff. If Lois Lane ever got wind of this Cat would surely die.

 

Her heart and head were pounding, and she had to sniffle against the beginning of tears. She gazed back at Kara who had stopped eating and seemed lost in thought with downcast eyes and parted lips. Cat wondered what her ever-efficient assistant would do in her situation, and then she remembered that she still had a car waiting for her out on the street. One single driver’s guaranteed silence would probably not cost too much. Or so she hoped. With shaking fingers she brought the phone to her face, and she blinked against the bright light as she searched her contacts.

 

Suddenly Cat was startled by raindrops spattering onto the back of her neck, and in her shock the phone slipped from her hand. She watched the lit screen tumble down until it hit the pavement with a loud smack. The sky opened up, and thick drops drummed against Cat’s shivering body as she held on to that damn branch and tried not to break down in sobs.

 

This could not be happening.

 

The pizzeria back door opened then, and out stepped Kara, here eyes immediately finding Cat in the semi darkness. Cat heard the other woman yell from inside, “Kara what are you doing? You’ll get soaked!”

 

“It’s okay, Alex. I’ll be right back. I just gotta help real quick,” Kara replied, but then paused. And despite her face being cast in shadow, Cat swore there was a wide grin on her lips.

 

“There’s a cat stuck in the tree.”


End file.
